Chapter I · (continued 2)

Perhaps I ought to give an illustration of this, so as not to leave so radical a change in the vague and disputable form of a generality. I shall take the instance of Chester; its circuit of walls, remaining from the Roman conquest, is something fixed for the imagination to rest upon amidst changes within and without them.

Passing over its medieval and its not infrequent Tudor experiences of epidemic sickness, let us come to the beginning of the 17th century. In two or three successive seasons from 1602 to 1605 it lost 1,313 persons by plague, as well as about 250 from other causes. The population was then mostly within the walls, and probably did not exceed 5000. There was a shipping quarter on the west side, with egress by the Water-gate to the landing-places on the Dee; a millers’ quarter, with corn-market and hostelries, on the south, connecting by the South gate and bridge with a hamlet across the river along the road to Wales; a Liberty or Freedom of the city outside the walls on the east, along the road to Warrington and Manchester, with a Bar, a short distance out, as in London, to mark the limit of the mayor’s jurisdiction; and on the north side, within the walls, the cattle-market and shambles, with the market for country produce, and a few straggling houses without the gate on the road leading to Liverpool. Chester was a characteristic county town, with its cathedral clergy, its garrison, its resident nobility and gentry, its professional classes, its tradesmen, market people and populace, with the addition of a shipping trade to Ireland and afterwards to foreign and colonial ports. Plague continuing from 1602 to 1605 cut off a fourth or a fifth of its population, and these the poorest. The gaps in the population would gradually have filled up, and the fringe of poverty grown again[62].

The plague came again in 1647, and cut off 2053 in the short space of twenty-three weeks from 22 June to 30 November. The bills of it are extant[63], and show on what parishes the plague fell most. All the parishes were originally within the walls but one, St John’s, the ancient collegiate church of Mercia, built upon a rocky knoll in the south-east angle made by the walls with the river. The other nine parish churches and their graveyards were within the walls; but the parishes of three of them extended beyond the gates, just as the three parishes dedicated to St Botolph at the gates of London did. These three were St Oswald’s, which included the Liberty on the east side, Trinity, which included the shipping quarter on the west as well as the houses along the Liverpool road on the north, and St Mary’s, which included the millers’ suburb across the Dee on the south. Hollar’s map, made a few years after the plague of 1647, shows very few houses beyond the walls, except in the ancient Liberty on the east. But it will appear from the following table that the parishes which had extended beyond the walls must either have been very crowded close up to the walls (as the Gate parishes were always apt to be), or there must have actually been a greater population outside the gates than the contemporary map shows:

Burials from Plague in the several Parishes of Chester in 23 weeks, June 22-Nov. 30, 1647.

5 parishes wholly within the walls.

Total. First week. Worst (7th) week.

St Peter 75 0 14

St Bridget 85 7 9

St Martin 173 9 23

St Michael 133 26 9

St Olave 59 3 5

3 parishes extending beyond the walls.

St Oswald 396 11 37

St Mary 314 5 20

Trinity 232 1 32

1 parish wholly without the walls.

St John 358 2 26

Pesthouse 228 0 34

2053 64 209

This was the last plague of Chester, but for a small outbreak in 1654. The next vital statistics that we get for the city are more than a century after, in 1774[64]. The population of 14,713 was then divided into two almost distinct parts, separated by the wall. The old city was being rebuilt, all but some ancient blocks of buildings held in the dead hand of the cathedral chapter; it was becoming a model 18th century place of residence for a wealthy and refined class, who were remarkably healthy and not very prolific, the parishes wholly within the walls having 3502 inhabitants. The poorer class had gone to live mostly outside the walls in new and mean suburbs, the three parishes at the Gates and extending now far beyond the walls, together with the original extramural parish of St John’s, having a population of 11,211. There was no town in Britain where the separation of the rich from the poor was more complete; there was hardly another town of the size where the health of the rich was better; and although the health of the populace was not so bad as in the manufacturing towns of Lancashire and Cumberland, close at hand, yet it is hardly possible to find so great a contrast as that between the clean and wholesome residential quarter within the walls and the mean fever-stricken suburbs as described by Haygarth in 1774:

“The inhabitants of the suburbs,” he says, “are generally of the lowest rank; they want most of the conveniences and comforts of life; their houses are small, close, crowded and dirty; their diet affords very bad nourishment, and their cloaths are seldom changed or washed.... These miserable wretches, even when they go abroad, carry a poisonous atmosphere round their bodies that is distinguished by a noisome and offensive smell, which is peculiarly disgustful even to the healthy and vigorous, exciting sickness and a sense of general debility. It cannot therefore be wondered that diseases should be produced where such poison is inspired with every breath.”

The case of Chester shows by broader contrasts than anywhere else the change from the public health of plague-times to that of more modern times. But it can hardly be said to show the populace better off than before; it shows them changed into a proletariat, and separated from the richer classes by walls several feet thick. Such, at least, was the result after four generations of immunity from plague, a result which indicates, as I have said, that we may easily make too much of the improved well-being of the poorer classes as a cause of the cessation of plague.

An easy explanation of plague ceasing in London has long been current, and just because it is an easy explanation it will probably hold the field for many years to come. It is that the fire of 1666 burnt out the seeds of plague. Defoe, writing in 1723, ascribed this opinion to certain “quacking philosophers,” but he would hardly have said so if he could have foreseen the respectable authority for it in after times. The plague had ceased in most of its provincial centres after the Civil Wars, and in some of them, such as York, from as early a date as 1604. It ceased in all the principal cities of Western Europe within a few years of its cessation in London. In London itself it ceased after 1666, not only in the City which was the part burned down in September of that year, but in St Giles’s, where the Great Plague began, in Cripplegate, Whitechapel and Stepney, where it was always worst, in Southwark, Bermondsey and Newington, in Lambeth and Westminster. Nor can it be said that the City was the source from which the infection used to spread to the Liberties and out-parishes. All the later plagues of London, perhaps even that of 1563, began in the Liberties or out-parishes and at length invaded the City. The part of London that was rebuilt after 1666 contained many finer dwelling-houses than before, built of stone, with substantial carpentry, and elegantly finished in fine and rare woods. The fronts of the new houses did not overhang so as to obstruct the ventilation of the streets and lanes; but the streets, lanes, alleys and courts were somewhat closely reproduced on the old foundations. A side walk in some streets was secured for foot-passengers by means of massive posts, which, with the projecting signs of houses and shops, were at length removed in 1766. The improvements in the City after the fire were mostly in the houses of the richer citizens. The City was the place of residence of the rich, with perhaps as many poorer purlieus in close proximity as the residential districts of London now have. But four-fifths of London at the time of the fire were beyond the walls of the City. It is in these extramural regions that the interest mostly lies for epidemical diseases. They remain, says Defoe in 1723, “still in the same condition they were in before.” Unfortunately we know little of their condition, whether in the 17th century or in the 18th. But there must have been something in it most unfavourable to health; for we find from the Bills of Mortality that the cessation of plague made hardly any difference to the annual average of deaths, the increase of population being allowed for. This fact makes the disappearance of plague all the more remarkable.

Fevers to the end of the 17th century.

The epidemical seasons of 1685-86 were the last that Sydenham recorded; he was shortly after laid aside from active work by gout, and died in 1689. Morton, who made notes of fevers and smallpox until 1694, is more a clinical observer than a student of “epidemic constitutions”; and although his writings are of value to the epidemiologist, he does not help us to understand the circumstances in which epidemic diseases prevailed more at one time than another. To the end of the century there is no other medical source of information, and little besides generalities to be collected from any source. It is known that the years from 1693 to 1699 were years of scarcity all over the kingdom, that the fever-deaths in London reached the high figure of 5036 in 1694, and that there was a high mortality in many country parishes and market towns during the scarcity. But there are few particular illustrations of the type of epidemic sickness. There is, therefore, little left to do but to give the figures, and to add some remarks.

Fever Deaths in the London Bills, 1687-1700.

Year Fever deaths Spotted fever deaths Deaths from all causes

1687 2847 144 21460

1688 3196 139 22921

1689 3313 129 23502

1690 3350 203 21461

1691 3490 193 22691

1692 3205 161 20874

1693 3211 199 20959

1694 5036 423 24109

1695 3019 105 19047

1696 2775 102 18638

1697 3111 137 20292

1698 3343 274 20183

1699 3505 306 20795

1700 3675 189 19443

Tables from Short’s Abstracts of Parish Registers.

Year Registers examined Registers with excess of death Deaths in them Births in them

Country Parishes.

1689 144 27 828 692

1690 146 17 532 324

1691 147 16 336 180

1692 147 10 207 146

1693 146 27 650 426

1694 148 18 465 348

1695 149 23 649 492

1696 150 19 503 344

1697 150 21 559 409

1698 152 12 397 289

1699 151 20 433 318

1700 160 29 890 739

Market Towns.

1689 25 12 1965 1415

1693 25 5 417 338

1694 25 6 1307 681

1695 25 3 309 246

1696 26 4 1020 708

1697 26 2 109 80

1698 26 4 575 423

1699 26 7 1181 867

1700 27 4 726 587

In the London figures the year 1694 stands out conspicuous by its deaths from all causes, and by its high total of fevers. The fever-deaths began to rise from their steady weekly level a little before Christmas, 1693, and remained high all through the year 1694, with a good many deaths from “spotted fever” in the worst weeks. Among the victims in London in February was Sir William Phipps, Governor of New England: his illness appeared at first to be a cold, which obliged him to keep his chamber; but it proved “a sort of malignant fever, whereof many about this time died in the city[65].” Pepys, writing to Evelyn on 10 August, 1694, calls it “the fever of the season,” three being down with it at his house, but well advanced in their recovery. In that week and in the week following, the deaths in London from all causes touched the highest points of the year, the deaths from fever and spotted fever being a full quarter of them. Fever at its worst in London never made more than a quarter of the annual deaths from all causes; so that, if we take it to have been the successor of the plague, it operated in a very different way—with a greatly lessened fatality of all that were attacked, with only a reminder of the old special incidence upon the summer and autumn seasons, but with a steadiness from year to year, and throughout each year, that made the fever-deaths of a generation little short of one of those enormous totals of plague-deaths that were rapidly piled up during a few months, perhaps once or twice in a generation.

The following table from the London weekly Bills shows the progress of the fever from the end of April, 1694, with the number of deaths specially assigned to “spotted fever”:—

London: Weekly Mortalities from fever and all causes, epidemic of 1694.

Week ending Fever Spotted fever All deaths

April 24 90 15 427

May 1 77 10 369

8 89 9 413

15 80 5 395

22 101 3 428

29 72 8 430

June 5 112 12 469

12 113 12 434

19 113 11 430

26 99 14 396

July 3 94 11 423

17 86 10 445

24 115 13 507

31 84 13 484

Aug. 7 99 10 462

14 110 20 530

21 135 19 583

28 111 20 510

Sept. 5 115 16 505

12 112 12 462

18 98 9 504

25 106 4 490

Oct. 2 124 8 533

9 125 10 553

16 114 9 552

23 104 3 511

30 118 3 528

Nov. 6 70 3 439

10 89 7 453

13 106 2 471

20 117 13 538

27 79 6 456

Dec. 4 87 6 475

11 87 3 407

18 78 4 445

25 66 3 394

The year 1694, to which the epidemic of malignant fever (as well as malignant smallpox) belongs, was one of the series of “seven ill years” at the end of the 17th century (1693-99). They were long noted, says Thorold Rogers, “for the distress of the people and for the exalted profits of the farmer.” The price of wheat in the autumn and winter of 1693 was the highest since the famine of 1661. In 1697-8 corn was again dear and much of it was spoilt. At Norwich in 1698 wheat was sold at 44s. a comb.

Harvests spoiled by wet weather or unseasonable cold appear to have been the most general cause of the high prices of food. In London there was no unusual sickness except in 1694; indeed the other years to the end of the century show a somewhat low mortality, the year 1696, which Macaulay marks as a time of severe distress among the common people owing to the calling in of the debased coinage[66], had the smallest number of deaths from all causes (18,638) since many years before, and for a century after allowing for the increase of population. But the deaths from “fever” were some three thousand every year, and the births, so far as registered, were, as usual, far below the deaths.

It was in the country at large that the effects of the “seven ill years” were chiefly felt. According to Short’s abstracts of parish registers, there was unusual mortality at the beginning of the period and at the end of it; in his Chronology he mentions spotted fever, bloody flux and agues in 1693 (besides an influenza or universal slight fever recorded by Molyneux of Dublin), and again in 1697 and 1698 “purples, quinsies, Hungarian and spotted fever, universal pestilential spotted fever,” from famine and bad food.

When we look for the evidence of this in England we shall have difficulty in finding it. Short’s own abstracts give almost no colour to it; but there are other figures from the parish registers, scattered through the county histories and statistical works, which prove that the seven ill years must have checked population. Thus at Sheffield in the ten years 1691-1700 there was the greatest excess of burials over baptisms in the whole history of the town from 1561—namely, 2856 burials to 2221 baptisms (688 marriages). At Minehead, Somerset, a parish of some 1200 people occupied in weaving, the deaths and births were as follows in four years of the decennium:

Baptised. Buried.

1691 57 75

1694 34 55

1695 47 48

1697 35 65

A glimpse of spotted or pestilential fever in Bristol during the years of distress at the end of the 17th century comes from Dr Dover, a man of no academical repute, but at all events an articulate voice. Passing from an account of the spotted pestilential fever at Guayaquil, “when I took it by storm,” he goes on[67]:

“About thirty-seven years since [written in 1732], this fever raged much in Bristol, so that I visited from twenty-five to thirty patients a day for a considerable time, besides their poor children taken into their workhouse, where I engaged myself, for the encouragement of so good and charitable an undertaking, to find them physick and give them advice at my own expense and trouble for the two first years. All these poor children in general had this fever, yet no more than one of them died of it of the whole number, which was near two hundred.”

—an experience of typhus in children which was strictly according to rule. This had clearly been the occasion of a memorial addressed to the Mayor and Aldermen of Bristol, in 1696, praying that a capacious workhouse should be erected for children and the aged, which “will prevent children from being smothered or starved by the neglect of the parish officers and poverty of their parents, which is now a great loss to the nation[68].”

The year 1698 was the climax of the seven ill years. The spring was the most backward for forty-seven years, the first wheat in the ear being seen near London on 16th June. For four months to the end of August the days were almost all rainy, except from the 18th to the 26th July. Whole fields of corn were spoilt. In Kent there was barley standing uncut on 29th September, and some lay in the swathe until December. Much of the corn in the north of England was not got in until Christmas, and in Scotland they were reaping the green empty corn in January[69].

Fevers of the seven ill years in Scotland.

It is from Scotland that we hear most of the effects of the seven ill years in the way of famine and fever. Scotland was then in a backward state compared with England; and its northern climate, making the harvest always a few weeks later than in England, told especially against it in the ill years. Fynes Morryson, in the beginning of the 17th century, contrasts the Scotch manner of life unfavourably with the English, and Sir Robert Sibbald’s account towards the end of that century is little better. Morryson says, “the excesse of drinking was then farre greater in generall among the Scots than the English.” Sibbald remarks[70] on the drinking habits of the Scots common people: their potations of ale or spirits on an empty stomach, especially in the morning, relaxed the fibres and induced “erratic fevers of a bad type, bastard pleurisies, ... dropsies, stupors, lethargies and apoplexies.” Morryson says: “Their bedsteads were then like cubbards in the wall, with doores to be opened and shut at pleasure, so as we climbed up to our beds. They used but one sheete, open at the sides and top, but close at the feete, and so doubled[71].” Sibbald says the peasantry had poor food and hard work, and were subject to many diseases—“heartburn, sleeplessness, ravings, hypochondriac affections, mania, dysentery, scrophula, cancer, and a dire troop of diseases which everywhere now invades the husbandmen that were formerly free from diseases.” Causa a victu est. Therefore consumption was common enough. He has much to say of fevers,—of intermittents, especially in spring and autumn, catarrhal fevers, nervous fevers, comatose fevers, with delirium, spasms and the like symptoms, malignant, spotted, pestilential, hectic, &c. The continued fevers ranged in duration from fifteen to thirty-one days, recovery being ushered in with sweats, alvine flux and salivation. Purple fevers had sometimes livid or black spots mixed with the purple (mottling); in a case given, there were suppurations which appear to have been bubonic. There had been no plague in Scotland since 1647-48; but fevers, unless Sibbald has given undue prominence to them, would appear to have filled its place among the adults.

Another writer of this period, from whom some information is got as to fevers, was Dr Andrew Brown of Edinburgh. He is mainly a controversialist, and is on the whole of little use save for the history of the treatment of fevers. He came to London on a visit in 1687, attracted by the fame of Sydenham’s method of curing fevers by antimonial emetics and by purgation: “Returning home as much overjoyed as I had gotten a treasure, I presently set myself to that practice”—of which he gave an account in his ‘Vindicatory Schedule concerning the New Cure of Fever[72].’ Continual fever, he says, takes up, with its pendicles, the half of all the diseases that men are afflicted with; and some part of what he calls continual fever must have been spotted: “As concerning the eruption of spots in fevers, these altogether resemble the marks made by stroaks on the skin, and these marks are also made by the stagnation and coagulation of the blood in the small channels [according to the doctrine of obstructions].... They tinge the skin with blewness or redness.”

The bitter controversy as to the treatment of fevers led Brown into another writing in 1699[73].

“The fevers that reign at this time [it was towards the end of the seven ill years] are for the most part quick and peracute, and cut off in a few days persons of impure bodies. And as I have used this method by vomiting and purging in many, and most successfully at this time, so I have had lately considerable experience thereof in my own family: wherein four of my children and ten servants had the fever, and blessed be God, are all recovered, by repeated vomiting with antimonial vomits and frequent purgings, except two servants, the one having gotten a great stress at work, who bragging of his strength did contend with his neighbour at the mowing of hay, and presently sickened and died the sixth day, and whom I saw not till the day before he died, and found him in such a condition that I could not give him either vomit or purge: and the other was his neighbour who strove with him, being a man of most impure and emaciate body, who had endured want and stress before he came to my service, and who got not all was necessary because he had not the occasion of due attendance, all my servants being sick at the time[74].”

This account of the experience which Dr Andrew Brown had lately had among his children and domestics in or near Edinburgh was written in 1699, and may be taken as relating to part of the wide-spread sickliness of the seven ill years in Scotland. Fletcher of Saltoun gives us a general view of the deplorable state of Scotland at the end of the 17th century, which was intensified by the succession of bad harvests[75]. The rents of cultivated farms were paid, not in money, but in corn, which gave occasion to many inequalities, to the traditional fraudulent practices of millers and to usury. The pasture lands for sheep and black cattle had no shelters from the weather, and no winter provision of hay or straw (roots were unheard of until long after), “so that the beasts are in a dying condition.” The country swarmed with vagrants (a hundred thousand, he estimates, in ordinary times, but doubled in the dear years), who lived and multiplied in incest, rioted in swarms in the nearest hills in times of plenty, and in times of distress fell upon farmhouses in gangs of forty or more, demanding food. Besides these there were a great many poor families very meanly provided for by the Church boxes, who lived wholly upon bad food and fell into various diseases. He had been credibly informed that some families in the years of mere scarcity preceding the climax of 1698-99 had eaten grains, for want of bread. “In the worst time, from unwholesome food diseases are so multiplied among poor people that, if some course be not taken, the famine may very probably be followed by a plague[76].”

We owe some details of these calamities in Scotland to Patrick Walker, the Covenanter, who records them to show how the prophecies of Divine vengeance on the land, uttered during the Stuart persecutions by Cargill and Peden, had been in due time fulfilled[77]:

“In the year 1694, in the month of August, that crop got such a stroke in one night by east mist or fog standing like mountains (and where it remained longest and thickest the badder were the effects, which all our old men, that had seen frost, blasting and mildewing, had never seen the like) that it got little more good of the ground. In November that winter many were smitten with wasting sore fluxes and strange fevers (which carried many off the stage) of such a nature and manner that all our old physicians had never seen the like and could make no help; for all things that used to be proper remedies proved destructive. And this was not to be imputed to bad unwholesome victual; for severals who had plenty of old victual did send to Glasgow for Irish meal, and yet were smitten with fluxes and fevers in a more violent and infectious nature and manner than the poorest in the land, whose names and places where they dwelt I could instance.

“These unheard-of manifold judgments continued seven years, not always alike, but the seasons, summer and winter, so cold and barren, and the wonted heat of the sun so much withholden, that it was discernible upon the cattle, flying fowls and insects decaying, that seldom a fly or gleg was to be seen. Our harvests not in the ordinary months, many shearing in November and December, yea some in January and February; the names of the places I can instruct. Many contracting their deaths, and losing the use of their feet and hands, shearing and working amongst it in frost and snow; and after all some of it standing still, and rotting upon the ground, and much of it for little use either to man or beast, and which had no taste or colour of meal. Meal became so scarce that it was at two shillings a peck, and many could not get it.

“Through the long continuance of these manifold judgments deaths and burials were so many and common that the living were wearied with burying of the dead. I have seen corpses drawn in sleds. Many got neither coffins nor winding-sheet.

“I was one of four who carried the corpse of a young woman a mile of way; and when we came to the grave, an honest poor man came and said, ‘You must go and help me to bury my son, he is lien dead this two days; otherwise I will be obliged to bury him in my own yard.’ We went, and there were eight of us had two miles to carry the corpse of that young man, many neighbours looking on us, but none to help us. I was credibly informed, that in the North, two sisters on a Monday’s morning were found carrying the corpse of their brother on a barrow with bearing-ropes, resting themselves many times, and none offering to help them.

“I have seen some walking about at sunsetting, and next day at six o’clock in the summer morning found dead in their houses, without making any stir at their death, their head lying upon their hand, with as great a smell as if they had been four days dead; the mice or rats having eaten a great part of their hands and arms.

“The nearer and sorer these plagues seized, the sadder were their effects, that took away all natural and relative affections, so that husbands had no sympathy with their wives, nor wives with their husbands, parents with their children, nor children with their parents. These and other things have made me to doubt if ever any of Adam’s race were in a more deplorable condition, their bodies and spirits more low, than many were in these years.”

In the parish of West Calder, 300 out of 900 “examinable” persons wasted away.

Some facts and traditions of the Seven Ill Years were recorded nearly a century after in the Statistical Account of Scotland. From the Kirk Session records of the parish of Fordyce, Banffshire, it did not appear “that any public measures were pursued for the supply of the poor, nor anything uncommon done by the Session except towards the end. The common distribution of the collections of the church amounted only to about 1s. 2d. or 1s. 4d. weekly.” The Kirk Session records bore witness to the numerous cases of immorality in the years before the famine that had been dealt with ecclesiastically, and to the entire and speedy cessation of such cases thereafter[78].

The account for the parish of Keithhall and Kinkell, Aberdeenshire, says that “many died of want, in particular ten Highlanders in a neighbouring parish, that of Kemnay; so that the Session got a bier made to carry them to the grave, not being able to afford coffins for such a number[79].” In the upland parish of Montquhitter, in the same county, the dear years reduced the population by one half or more. Until 1709 many farms were waste. Of sixteen families that resided on the estate of Lettertie, thirteen were extinguished. The account of this parish contains several stories of the distress, with the names of individuals[80]. It is clear, however, that all the parishes of Scotland were not equally distressed. The county of Moray and “some of the best land along the east coast of Buchan and Formartine [Aberdeenshire] abounded with seed and bread;” but transport to the upland parishes was difficult[81].

We may take it that these experiences in the reign of William III. were peculiar to Scotland; even Ireland, which had troubles enough of the same kind in the 18th and 19th centuries, was at that time resorted to as a place of refuge by the distressed Scots. Among the special and temporary causes in Scotland were antiquated agricultural usage, an almost incredible proportion of the people in a state of lawless vagrancy, such as Henry VIII. and Elizabeth had to deal with a century and a half before, a low state of morals, both commercial and private, a tyrannical disposition of the employers, a sullen attitude of the labourers, and a total decay of the spirit of charity. An ancient elder of the parish of Fordyce, who kept some traditions of the dear years, remarked to the minister: “If the same precautions had been taken at that time which he had seen taken more lately in times of scarcity, the famine would not have done so much hurt, nor would so many have perished.”

The evil of vagrancy, for which Fletcher of Saltoun saw no remedy but a state of slavery not unlike that which Protector Somerset had actually made the law of England for a couple of years, 1547-49, in somewhat similar circumstances, gradually cured itself without a resort to the practices of antiquity or of barbarism.

The union with England in 1707, by removing the customs duties and opening the Colonial trade to Scots shipping (they had a share in the East India trade already) gave a remarkable impulse to the manufacture of linen and to commerce. Such was the demand for Scots linen that, it seemed to De Foe, “the poor could want no employment”; and it may certainly be taken as a fact that the establishment on a free basis of industries and foreign markets gave Scotland relief from the pauperism and vagrancy, like those of Ireland in the 18th and 19th centuries, that threatened for a time, and especially in the Seven Ill Years, to retard the developement of the nation.

For several years after the period of scarcity or famine from 1693 to 1699, the history of fever in Britain presents little for special remark.

A book of the time was Dr George Cheyne’s New Theory of Continual Fever, London, 1701. His theory is that of Bellini and Borelli, which accounted for everything in fevers on mechanical principles, and ignored the infective element in them. Cheyne does not even describe what the fevers were; but in showing how the theory applies, he mentions incidentally the symptoms—quick pulse, pain in the head, burning heat, want of sleep, raving, clear or flame-coloured urine, and morbid strength. Equally theoretical is the handling of the subject by Pitcairn. Freind, in his essays on fevers[82], is mainly occupied with controversial matters of treatment, except in connexion with Lord Peterborough’s expedition to Spain in 1705, as we shall see in a section on sickness of camps and fleets.

In the absence of clinical details from the medical profession, the following from letters of the time will serve a purpose:

On 18 September, 1700, Thomas Bennett writes to Thomas Coke from Paris giving an account of the fever of Coke’s brother: His fever is very violent upon him, and he has a hickup and twitchings in his face; he is especially ill in the night, and has now and then violent sweats. He raved for eight days together and in all that time did not get an hour’s sleep. He was attended by Dr Helvetius and other physicians. Lady Eastes, her son, and most of her servants are sick, but they are all on the mending hand; her steward is dead of a high fever, having been sick but five days[83]. These are Paris fevers, the symptoms suggesting typhus, especially the prolonged vigil in one of the cases. It is to be remarked that they occurred among the upper classes; and it appears that the universal fevers “of a bad type” in France in 1712 did not spare noble houses nor even the palace of Louis the Great[84].

The following from the London Bills will show the prevalence of fever from year to year[85].

Year Dead of fever Dead of spotted fever Dead of all diseases

1701 2902 68 20,471

1702 2682 53 19,481

1703 3162 74 20,720

1704 3243 61 22,684

1705 3290 41 22,097

1706 2662 54 19,847

1707 2947 42 21,600

1708 2738 62 21,291

1709 3140 118 21,800

1710 4397 343 24,620

1711 3461 142 19,833

1712 3131 96 21,198

1713 3039 102 21,057

1714 4631 150 26,569

1715 3588 161 22,232

1716 3078 100 24,436

1717 2940 137 23,446

1718 3475 132 26,523

1719 3803 124 28,347

1720 3910 66 25,454

The London fever of 1709-10.

The “seven ill years” were followed by the fine summer and abundant harvest (although hardly more than half the breadth was sown) of 1699. Scarcity was not a cause of excessive sickness again until 1709-10; although the harvest of 1703 was unfavourable. The price of wheat in 1702 was 25s. 6d. per quarter, and continued low for a number of years, notwithstanding the war with France. In Marlborough’s wars there were no war-prices for farmers, as in the corresponding circumstances a century after; on the contrary, corn and produce of all kinds were so cheap that farmers had difficulty in paying their rents. The bounty of five shillings per quarter on exported wheat had given a great impulse to corn-growing, so that the acreage of wheat sown was much more than the country in an ordinary year required, partly, no doubt, because the bread of the poorer classes was largely made from the coarser cereals. The period of abundance was broken by the excessively severe winter of 1708-9, one of three memorable winters in the 18th century. The frost lasted all over Europe from October to March, and was followed by a greatly deficient crop in 1709. The following shows the rise of the price of the quarter of wheat in England:

s. d.

1708 Lady-day 27 3

" Michaelmas 46 3

1709 Lady-day 57 6

" Michaelmas 81 9

1710 Lady-day 81 9

The export of corn was prohibited in 1709 and again in 1710.

An epidemic of fever began in London in the autumn of 1709 and continued throughout 1710, in which year the fever-deaths reached the highest total since 1694. But it was not altogether a fever of starvation or distress among the poor, and perhaps not mainly so. There is always the dual question in connexion with fever following bad seasons and high prices: how much of it was due to the scarcity, and how much to those states of soil and atmosphere upon which the failure of the crop itself depended. An authentic case of the malignant fever which began to rage in London in the autumn of 1709 will both serve to show the remarkable type of at least a portion, if not the whole of the epidemic, and to prove its incidence upon the houses of the rich.

The case is recorded by Sir David Hamilton[86]:

“About the 5th of October, 1709, the son of that worthy gentleman, William Morison, esquire, was seized with a fever; at which time, and for some weeks before, a malignant fever raged in London.” He had a quick and weak pulse, great difficulty or hindrance of speech, and a stupidity; “whereto were added tremors, and startings of the tendons, a dry and blackish tongue, a high-coloured but transparent urine and coming away for the most part involuntarily, and a hot and dry skin.” Dr Grew was called in, and prescribed alexipharmac remedies (cordials, sudorifics, etc.) “A few days after the patient’s skin was stained or marked with red and purple spots, and especially upon his breast, legs and thighs. These symptoms, although a little milder now and then, prevailed for fourteen days; after that the spots vanished, and the convulsive motions so increased that the young gentleman seemed ready to sink under them for several days together.” He was treated with the application of blisters, and with doses of bark. His strength and flesh were so wasted that the hip whereon he lay was seized with a gangrene. For ten or twelve days before his death, “he breathed and perspired so offensive a smell that they were obliged to smoke his chamber with perfumes; and even myself, whilst I inclined my body a little too near him, was, by receiving his breath into my mouth, seized all on a sudden with such a sickness and faintness that I was obliged to take the air in the open fields, and returning thence to drink plentifully of mountain wine at dinner.” The examination after death was made by the celebrated anatomist Dr Douglas. There was still a heap of brown-coloured spots visible on the breast; “there was nothing contained in the more conspicuous vessels of the abdomen but grumes or clots of blackish blood, without any serum in the interstices.” Hamilton adds: “We too seldom dissect the bodies of those dying in fevers.”

The tremors, offensive sweats and offensive breath are distinctive of a form of typhus that became common towards the middle of the century, and was called putrid fever (not in the sense of Willis) or miliary fever from the watery vesicles of the skin that often attended it. But although Hamilton was writing on miliary fever (of the factitious variety) this case is not given as an example, but is appended to his sixteen cases of the latter, as an example of “a deadly fever with loss of speech from the beginning.” Among earlier cases, those belonging to the epidemic of 1661 as described by Willis correspond closely with this case, which we may take as representing part of the malignant fever that then raged in London. We have an anatomical record from each; but in neither was there sloughing of the lymph-follicles of the intestine, or of the mesenteric glands, as in the enteric fever of our own time; while in both there were red or purple spots on the breast or neck, and on the limbs. The “loss of speech from the beginning” suggests Sydenham’s “absolute aphonia” in the comatose fever of 1673-76, which resembled in other respects Willis’s fever of the brain and nervous stock (mostly of children) in 1661. One of the synonyms of “infantile remittent” was “an acute fever with dumbness[87].” This seems to have been a common type of fever in the latter part of the 17th century and early part of the 18th. Some likeness to enteric fever may be found in it, but there is no warrant for identifying it with that fever. Its main features may be said to have been its incidence upon the earlier years of life, but not to the exclusion of adult cases, its remarkable ataxic symptoms, which led Willis to refer it to “the brain and nervous stock” (spinal cord), its comatose character, its spots, occasional miliary eruption, ill-smelling sweats and other foetid evacuations, its protracted course, and its hectic sequelae.

The weekly bills of mortality in London bear little evidence of unusual prevalence of fever in 1709, except in the weeks ending 13 and 20 September, when the fever-deaths were 96 and 75 (including “spotted fever”). But the unusual entry of “malignant fever” appears in three weekly bills, 19 July, 9 August and 23 August, one death being referred to it on each occasion. It was in the summer and autumn of 1710 that the fever reached a height in London, being attended with a very fatal smallpox. An essay on the London epidemic of 1710[88] is interesting chiefly for recording a probable case of relapsing fever, a form which was almost certainly part of the great febrile epidemic in London in 1727-29.

Mrs Simon, aged 20, had a burning fever, stifling of her breath, frequent vomiting and looseness, foul tongue, loss of sleep, restlessness, intermitting, low and irregular pulse. This terrible fever disappeared on the fourth day, and she thought herself recovered. But on the seventh day from her being taken ill the fever returned, she was light-headed, did not know her relatives, and was fevered in the highest degree. It looked like a malignant fever, but there were no spots.

The following table shows the very high mortality from fever (as well as from smallpox) in the epidemic to which the above case belonged.

London: Weekly deaths from fever, smallpox and all causes.

1710.

Week ending Dead of fever Dead of spotted fever Dead of smallpox Dead of all diseases

May 2 103 [illegible] 99 571

9 90 6 60 517

16 84 7 71 502

23 93 15 71 503

30 106 11 83 550

June 6 93 2 98 508

13 79 8 84 509

20 106 12 99 574

27 105 15 86 503

July 4 106 7 99 482

11 107 13 97 467

18 126 16 89 509

25 109 13 105 562

Aug. 1 91 12 79 444

8 92 11 72 463

15 98 10 58 459

22 105 10 63 463

29 111 16 71 495

Sept. 5 76 4 63 414

12[89] 107 12 57 520

19 115 9 83 548

26 81 11 46 456

Oct. 3 98 9 45 469

10 79 10 49 480

17 90 5 41 477

24 107 5 45 470

31 106 14 51 421

Nov. 7 71 6 55 425

14 92 2 41 390

21 70 4 25 345

Throughout England, in country parishes and in towns, the first ten years of the 18th century were on the whole a period of good public health. In Short’s abstracts of the parish registers to show the excess of deaths over the births, those years are as little conspicuous as any in the long series. It was a time when there was a great lull in smallpox, and probably also in fevers. The figures for Sheffield may serve as an example[90]. It will be seen from the Table that the burials exceeded the baptisms in every decade from the Restoration to the end of the century; after that for twenty years the baptisms exceeded the burials, the marriages having increased greatly.

Vital Statistics of Sheffield.

Ten-year periods Marriages Baptisms Burials

1661-70 585 2086 2266

1671-80 537 2240 2387

1681-90 540 2595 2856

1691-1700 688 2221 2856

1701-10 942 3033 2613

1711-20 991 3304 2765

Of particular epidemics, we hear of a malignant fever at Harwich in 1709. Harwich was then an important naval station, and the fever may have arisen in connexion with the transport of troops to and from the seat of war, just as camp- and war-fevers appeared at various ports in the next war, 1742-48.

There were rumours of a plague at Newcastle in 1710, which were contradicted by advertisement in the London Gazette[91]. But, as there was so much plague in the Baltic ports in 1710 it is possible that the Newcastle rumour may have been one of plague imported, and not a rumour suggested by the mortality from some other disease.

To the same period of epidemic fever in London, about 1709-10, belongs also a curiously localized epidemic in an Oxford college, which reminds one somewhat of the circumstances of enteric fever in our time. It was told to Dr Rogers of Cork twenty-five or twenty-six years before the date of his writing (1734), by one who was a student at Oxford then: “There broke out amongst the scholars of Wadham College a fever very malignant, that swept away great numbers, whilst the rest of the colleges remained unvisited. All agreed that the contagious infection arose from the putrefaction of a vast quantity of cabbages thrown into a heap out of the several gardens near Wadham College[92].”

The next epidemic of fever in London was in 1714. Like that of 1710, it followed a great rise in the price of wheat, or perhaps it followed the unseasonable weather which caused the deficient harvest. Before the Peace of Utrecht wheat in England was as low as 33s. 9d. per quarter, in 1712, the peace next year sending it no lower than 30s. But at Michaelmas, 1713, it rose with a bound to 56s. 11d., doubtless owing to a bad harvest. The fever-deaths in London began to rise in the spring of 1714, reaching a weekly total of 103 in the week ending 20 April. All through the summer and autumn they continued very high, the weekly totals exceeding, on an average, those of the year 1710, as in the foregoing table, and having corresponding large additions of “spotted fever.” The deaths from all causes in 1714 were a quarter more than those of the year before, the epidemic of fever being the chief contributor to the rise. This happened to be a very slack time in medical writing[93]; but, even in the absence of such testimony as we have for earlier and later epidemics of fever in London, we may safely conclude that the fever of 1714 was of the type of pestilential or malignant typhus, beginning in early summer and reaching a height in the old plague season of autumn.

A singular instance of what may be considered war-typhus belongs to the winter of 1715-16. The political intrigues preceding and following the death of Queen Anne in 1714 culminated in the Jacobite rising in Scotland and the North of England in 1715. The Jacobites having been defeated at Preston on 13 November, prisoners to the number of 450 were brought to Chester Castle on the Sunday night before December 1st. A fortnight later (December 15th), Lady Otway writes of the 450 prisoners in the Castle:

“They all lie upon straw, the better and the worse alike. The king’s allowance is a groat a day for each man for meat, but they are almost starved for want of some covering, though many persons are charitable to the sick.” The winter was unusually severe, the snow lying “a yard deep.” Many prisoners died in the Castle by “the severity of the season,” many were carried off by “a very malignant fever.” On February 16th Lady Otway writes again:—“So much sickness now in our Castle that they dye in droves like rotten sheep, and be 4 or 5 in a night throne into the Castle ditch ffor ther graves. The feavour and sickness increaseth dayly, is begun to spread much into the citty, and many of the guard solidyers is sick, it is thought by inffection. The Lord preserve us ffrom plague and pestilence[94]!”

Prosperity of Britain, 1715-65.

The fifty years from 1715 to 1765 were, with two or three exceptions, marked by abundant harvests, low prices and heavy exports of corn. This was undoubtedly a great time in the expansion of England, a time of fortune-making for the monied class, and of cheapness of the necessaries of life.

The well-being and comfort of the middle class were undoubtedly great; also there was something peculiar to England in the prosperity of towns and villages throughout all classes. In the very worst year of the period, the year 1741, Horace Walpole landed at Dover on the 13th September, having completed the grand tour of Europe. Like many others, he was delighted with the pleasant county of Kent as he posted towards London; and on stopping for the night at Sittingbourne, he wrote as follows in a letter:

“The country town delights me: the populousness, the ease, the gaiety, and well-dressed everybody, amaze me. Canterbury, which on my setting out I thought deplorable, is a paradise to Modena, Reggio, Parma, etc. I had before discovered that there was nowhere but in England the distinction of middling people. I perceive now that there is peculiar to us middling houses; how snug they are[95]!”

Our history henceforth has little to record of malignant typhus fevers, or of smallpox, in these snug houses of the middle class, although not only the middle class, but also the highest class had a considerable share of those troubles all through the 17th century. But the 18th century, even the most prosperous part of it, from the accession of George I. to the beginning of the Industrial Revolution in the last quarter or third of it, was none the less a most unwholesome period in the history of England. The health of London was never worse than in those years, and the vital statistics of some other towns, such as Norwich, are little more satisfactory. This was the time which gave us the saying, that God made the country and man made the town. Praise of rural felicity was a common theme in the poetry of the time, as in Johnson’s London:

Both for the country and the town the history of the public health does not harmonize well with the optimist views of the 18th century. The historians are agreed that, under the two first Georges, during the ministries of Walpole, the Pelhams and Pitt, the prosperity of Britain was general. Adam Smith speaks of “the peculiarly happy circumstances of the country” during the reign of George II. (1727-60). Hallam characterizes the same reign as “the most prosperous that England had ever experienced.” The most recent historian of England in the 18th century is of the same opinion[96]. The novels of Fielding give us the concrete picture of the period with epic fidelity, and the picture is of abundance and prodigality. Agriculture and commerce with the Colonies, India and the continent of Europe, were the sources of the country’s wealth. Farming and stock-raising had been greatly improved by the introduction of roots and sown grasses. In some country parishes the baptisms were three times the burials. But the public health during this period will not appear in a favourable light from what follows. More particularly there were three occasions, about the years 1718, 1728 and 1741, when a single bad harvest in the midst of many abundant ones brought wide-spread distress, with epidemics of typhus and relapsing fever; from which fact it would appear that the common people had little in hand. Thorold Rogers, among economists, was of the opinion that the prosperity was all on the side of the governing and capitalist classes, that the labourers were in “irremediable poverty” and “without hope,” and that the law of parochial settlement, with the artificial fixing of wages by the Quarter Sessions and the bonuses out of the poor-rates, had the effect of keeping the mass of the people on the land “in a condition wherein existence could just be maintained[97].” I shall not attempt an independent judgment in economics, but proceed to those illustrations of national well-being which belong to my subject, leaving the latter to have their due weight on the one side of economical opinion or on the other. Besides the economical question there is of course also an ethical one. When the pinch came about 1766, there was the usual diversity of opinion expressed on the “condition of England” problem, one holding that the labourers were unfairly paid, another that the nation had been made “splendid and flourishing by keeping wages low,” and that the distress was due to “want of industry, want of frugality, want of sobriety, want of principle” among the common people at large. “If in a time of plenty,” wrote one austere moralist, “the labourers would abate of their drunkenness, sloth, and bad economy, and make a reserve against times of scarcity, they would have no reason to complain of want or distress at any time[98].” But there must have been something wrong in the economics and morals of their betters if it were the case that the working class as a whole, and not merely a certain number of individuals in it, was drunken, thriftless and slothful. The familiar proof of this is the apathy of the Church, broken by the Methodist revival of religion.

The epidemic fevers of 1718-19.

In the fifty years from 1715 to 1765, the three worst periods of epidemic fever in England and Scotland correspond closely to the three periods of actual famine and its attendant train of sicknesses in Ireland, namely, the years 1718-19, 1727-29, and 1740-42. The three divisions of the kingdom suffered in common, Ireland suffering most. The first period, 1718-19, was an extremely slack tide in medical writing, insomuch that hardly any accounts of the reigning maladies remain, except those by Wintringham, of York, and Rogers, of Cork. The whole of the Irish history of fevers and the allied maladies is dealt with in a chapter apart. Of the Scots history, little is known for the first of the three periods beyond a statement that there was a malignant fever and dysentery in Lorn, Argyllshire, in January and February, 1717[99].

Wintringham gives the following account of the synochus, afterwards called typhus, which attracted notice in the summer of 1718 and became more common in the warm season of 1719: in each year it began about May, reached its height in July and lasted all August, carrying off many of those who fell into it.

It began with rigors, nausea and bilious vomiting, followed by alternate heats and chills, with great lassitude and a feeling of heaviness: then thirst and pungent heat, a dry and brown tongue, sometimes black. The patient slept little, did not sweat, and was mostly delirious, or anxious and restless, tossing continually in bed. About the 12th day it was not unusual for profuse and exhausting diarrhœa to come on. In a favourable case the fever ended in a crisis of sweating about the 16th day. Those who were of lax habit, unhealthy, hysteric, or cachectic, were apt to have tremors, spasms and delirium, while others were so prostrated as to have no control over their evacuations, lying in a stupor and raving when roused out of it. In these the fever would continue to the 20th day; in some few it ended without a manifest crisis, and with a slow convalescence[100].

This applies to the city of York, but in what special circumstances we are not told. However, it happens that a physician of York, two generations after, in giving an account of the great improvement that had taken place in its public health, throws some light on its old-world state: “The streets have been widened in many places by taking down a number of old houses built in such a manner as almost to meet in the upper stories, by which the sun and air were almost excluded in the streets and inferior apartments[101].”

In London the fever-deaths, with the deaths from all causes, rose decidedly in 1718, and reached a very high figure in 1719, of which the summer was excessively hot. One cause, at least, was want of employment, especially among weavers in the East End[102]. But the epidemic fever of 1718-19 was not limited to the distressed classes; we have a glimpse of it, under the name of “spotted fever,” in the family of the archbishop of Canterbury:

“On Friday night the archbishop of Canterbury’s sixth daughter was interred in our chancel, with four others preceding, she dying on Monday after three days of the spotted fever. The fourth and seventh are recovered, and hoped past danger[103].”

The following table shows the fever-mortalities for London, from 1718 onwards, and, for comparison, the excessive mortalities in the epidemics of 1710 and 1714:

London Mortalities from Fever, &c.

Year Fevers Spotted fevers Smallpox All causes

1710 4397 343 3138 24620

1714 4631 150 2810 26569

1718 3475 132 1884 26523

1719 3803 124 3229 28347

1720 3910 46 1442 25454

1721 3331 84 2375 26142

1722 3088 22 2167 25750

1723 3321 51 3271 29197

1724 3262 84 1227 25952

1725 3277 59 3188 25523

1726 4666 84 1569 29647

1727 4728 102 2379 28418

1728 4716 94 2105 27810

1729 5235 [The entry 2849 29722

1730 4011 ends.] 1914 26761

1731 3225 2640 25262

1732 2939 1197 23358

1733 3831 1370 29233

1734 3116 2688 26062

1735 2544 1594 23538

1736 3361 3014 27581

1737 4580 2084 27823

1738 3890 1590 25825

1739 3334 1690 25432

1740 4003 2725 30811

In country parishes, according to Short’s abstracts of registers, there was no unusual sickness in 1718 and 1719. But in market towns the mortality rose greatly in 1719, which had an excessively hot summer; and that was the year when the synochus or typhus described by Wintringham reached its worst at York. The mortality kept high for several years after 1719.

Market Towns.

Year Registers examined Registers with excess of deaths Deaths in same Births in same

1716 30 8 1060 845

1717 30 9 1485 1290

1718 30 3 249 169

1719 30 6 1737 1320

1720 30 10 2186 1461

1721 33 9 1294 952

1722 33 11 1664 1345

1723 33 14 2532 2176

The high mortalities in 1721-23 were mostly from smallpox, exact figures of many of the epidemics in Yorkshire and elsewhere being given in the chapter on that disease. The country parishes shared in its prevalence:

Country Parishes.

Year Registers examined Registers with excess of deaths Deaths in same Births in same

1721 174 35 793 586

1722 175 35 1015 775

1723 174 63 2021 1583

Besides smallpox, diarrhoeas and dysenteries in the autumn are given by Wintringham as the reigning maladies, fever not being mentioned.

The Epidemic Fevers of 1726-29: evidence of Relapsing Fever.

The four years 1726-29 were a great fever-period in London, the deaths having been as follows:

Year Fever deaths All deaths

1726 4666 29,647

1727 4728 28,418

1728 4716 27,810

1729 5335 29,722

In the last of those years the entry in the annual bills becomes “fever, malignant fever, spotted fever and purples.”

The following are the weekly maxima of fever deaths and deaths from all causes during the four years, 1726-29; in nearly all the weeks the deaths from “convulsions” (generic name for most of the maladies of infants) contribute from a fourth to a third, or even more, of the whole mortality.

Week ending Fever deaths All deaths

1726

Jan. 18 71 633

March 15 81 678

May 31 103 611

June 7 106 607

Aug. 30 102 711

Sept. 6 116 680

13 109 643

20 109 648

1727

Aug. 8 103 577

15 123 698

22 132 730

29 130 789

Sept. 5 150 764

12 134 795

19 165 798

26 163 715

Oct. 3 150 684

1728

Feb. 6 112 748

13 131 889

20 121 850

27 145 927

March 5 93 733

Aug. 27 138 525

Sept. 3 131 562

Dec. 10 122 734

1729

Sept. 9 109 676

Nov. 4 213 908[104]

11 267 993[104]

8 166 783

Dec. 9 132 779

These are high mortalities, whatever were the types of fever that caused them. That the old pestilential fever of London was one of them we need have no doubt. Dr John Arbuthnot, writing two or three years after, said, “I believe one may safely affirm that there is hardly any year in which there are not in London fevers with buboes and carbuncles [the distinctive pestilential marks]; and that there are many petechial or spotted fevers is certain[105].”

The essay of Strother also has a reference to “spotted fever” in its title, although the text throws very little light upon it[106]. But, for the rest, the “constitution” of 1727-29 is more than usually perplexing. There was an influenza at the end of 1729, which can be separated from the rest easily enough by the help of the London weekly bills of mortality; and it is probable, unless Arbuthnot, Huxham and Rutty have erred in their dates, that one or more epidemics of catarrhal fever had occurred before that, in the years 1727 and 1728. The greatest difficulty is with a certain “little fever,” or “hysteric fever,” or “febricula,” which gave rise to some writing and a good deal of talk. Strother does not specially treat of it, at least under that name, although he says that “many, especially women, have been subject to fits of vapours, cold sweats, apprehensions, and unaccountable fears of death; every small disappointment dejected them, tremblings and weakness attended them,” etc. (p. 116); and again, “never was a season when apoplexies, palsies and other obstructions of the nerves did prevail so much as they do at present, and have done for some time past” (p. 102); while he had frequently seen hysterical and hypochondriacal symptoms, dejection of spirits and the like remaining behind the fever (p. 109). For some years before this, much had been heard in London of the vapours, the “hypo,” the spleen, and the like, an essay by Dr Mandeville, better known by his ‘Fable of the Bees,’ having first made these maladies fashionable in the year 1711[107].

In due time it began to be noticed that symptoms which many physicians made light of as a “fit of vapours” were really the beginning of a fever. Dr Blackmore, in an essay on the Plague written in 1721, admitted the ambiguity:

“For several days a malignant fever has so near a resemblance to one that is only hysterick, that many physicians and standers by, I am apt to believe, mistake the first for the last, and look upon a great and dangerous disease to be only the spleen, or a fit of the vapors, to the great hazard of the patient[108].”

In 1730, Dr William Cockburn, in a polemic against the physicians whom he styles “the academical cabal” (because they objected to his secret electuary for dysentery), professes to give a history of the mistakes of the faculty in London over this “little fever,” or “hysteric fever,” which often became dangerous[109]:

“The present fever, with a variation in some of its symptoms, has now subsisted twelve years [or since 1718] not in England only, but all over Europe [Manningham says it was peculiarly English]. Few or no physicians suspected the reigning and popular disease to be a fever. Vapours, a nervous disease, and such general appellations it had from sundry physicians. Others, who discovered the fever, knew it was the low or slow fever, first mentioned by Hippocrates.... The last were represented as ignorant for calling the distemper a fever, and affixing to it the name ‘low’ or ‘slow,’ a slow fever being, in their adversaries’ opinion, altogether unheard of among physicians and never recorded in their books. Nothing was more monstrous than calling this distemper a fever, or confining persons afflicted with it to their bed, and dieting them with broth, or other liquid food of good nourishment, and what is easily concocted.... ‘You are not hot, you are not dry; you are in good temper; and therefore you have no fever’ was the common language of the town.... They might have seen physicians practising for a destroying distemper, and yet, after seven years, they confess themselves ignorant of its very name.”

At length, he continues, Blackmore admitted the ambiguity of diagnosis, while Mead, Freind and others, recognized that there was really such a thing as a slow, nervous fever, by no means free from danger to life. It is probably to this insidious fever that Strother refers:

“Thus, having gone on for six or seven days in a train of indolence, they have been surprized on the seventh day, and have died on the eighth lethargick or delirious, whereas, if they had taken due care, the fever would have run its course in fifteen days or more.” It was the remissions, or intermissions, he explains, that often misled patients, by which he seems to mean the clear intervals between relapses. “Others, wearied out with relapses, have hoped their recovery would as certainly ensue as it had hitherto, and have deferred asking advice until it was too late.” These relapses, he thought, were brought on by venturing too soon into the air: “it is too well known that the fever has been cured, and patients have soon, after they have ventured into the air, relapsed and have again run the same circle of ill symptoms, if not worse than before.” Bark failed conspicuously in these “remittents:” “it is therefore incumbent on me to examine into the reason of this new phenomenon. I call it new,” he explains, because bark had hitherto succeeded. “Perhaps we may find reason to lay some blame on the air for the frequent relapses.... Periodical comas have of late been common; so soon as the fit was over, the drowsiness abated till the fit returned.”

Elsewhere he speaks of the frequent relapses as belonging to a “quartan,” under which diagnosis bark had been tried. The fevers were less apt to “relapse” when treated by mild cathartics. Another symptom of this fever was jaundice: “If jaundice breaks forth on the fourth day of a fever, it is much better than if it comes at the conclusion of a fever.... Jaundices are now very common after the cure of these fevers.”

These indications, dispersed throughout the rambling essay of Strother, point somewhat plainly to relapsing fever[110]. But his theoretical pathology comes in to obscure the whole matter. He explains everything by obstructions. The jaundice was due to obstruction of the liver by “styptics,” the hysteric symptoms to obstructions of the nerves; there were also theoretical obstructions of the mesentery, part of the matter being sometimes “thrown off into the mesenteric glands”; also “congestions” or phlegmons of the liver, spleen and pancreas. But it is when he comes to the bowels that his subjective morbid anatomy becomes truly misleading. There is nothing to show that Strother examined a single body dead of this fever. He says, however, in his à priori way: “The crisis of these slow fevers is generally deposited on the bowels.... The lent fever is a symptomatical fever, arising from an inflammation, or an ulcer fixed on some of the bowels. A lent fever, depending on some fixed cause of the bowels, must be cured by having regard to those causes some of which I shall enumerate”:—the first supposition being that the fever depends on phlegmons by congestion of “the liver, spleen, pancreas, or the mesentery”; the second, if it depends on extravasations in an equally comprehensive range of viscera; the third, “if it depends on an ulcer, then all vulneraries must be administered internally; but to speak truth, when the viscera are ulcerated, there remains but small hope of life”; the fourth supposition is worms, the fifth corruption of the humours. All this is paper pathology. There is not a single precise fact relating to ulcerated Peyer’s patches, or to swollen mesenteric glands, or to enlarged spleen, which last would have been equally distinctive of relapsing as of enteric fever; it is “the viscera” that are ulcerated, or congested, or extravasated, or it is “some of the bowels,” or the pancreas and liver obstructed as well as the spleen, the obstruction of the liver being invoked to explain the highly significant jaundice.

It is not quite clear whether Strother’s fever with relapses and jaundice corresponded exactly to the little fever, hysteric fever, or nervous fever of the same years; but it is worthy of note that relapsing fever in Ireland a century later was called febricula or the “short fever.” It was not until 1746 that the excellent essay upon it by Sir Richard Manningham was written. By that time a good deal was being said in various parts of Britain of a slow, nervous, or putrid fever, Huxham, in particular, identifying the nervous fever with Manningham’s febricula or little fever[111]. Some have supposed that the nervous fever of the 18th century included cases of enteric fever, if it did not stand for that disease exclusively. Murchison takes Manningham’s essay to be “an excellent description of enteric fever, under the title of febricula or little fever, etc.[112]” The following are brief extracts from his description, by which the reader will be able to form his own opinion on the question of identity[113].

At the beginning patients feel merely languid or uneasy, with flying pains, dryness of the lips and tongue but no thirst; in a day or two they find themselves often giddy, dispirited and anxious without apparent reason, and passing pale urine. They have transient fits of chilliness, a low, quick and unequal pulse, sometimes cold clammy sweats and risings in the throat. They go about until more violent symptoms come on, simulating those of quotidian, tertian or quartan fever; sometimes the malady simulates pleurisy. There may be attacks of dyspnoea, nausea and haemorrhage; the menses in women are checked. A loss of memory and a delirium occur at intervals for short periods. The malady is very difficult to cure and too often becomes fatal in the end. It will last thirty or forty days, unless it end fatally in stupor or syncope. A form of mania is a consequence of it, where it has been neglected or badly treated; “of late years this species of madness has been more than ordinarily frequent.” All sorts were liable to it, but mostly valetudinarians, delicate persons, and those in the decline of life; the fatalities were “especially among the opulent families of this great metropolis[114].”

This fever-period in London corresponds on the whole closely with a series of unhealthy years in Short’s tables from the registers of market towns and country parishes, and with high mortalities in the Norwich register. It was not specially a smallpox period, as the last unhealthy year, 1723, was. On the other hand the epidemiographists in Yorkshire, Devonshire and Ireland dwell most upon fevers of the nature of typhus, some of which were due to famine or dearth, and upon “agues.”

Market Towns.

Year Registers examined No. with excess of death Deaths in same Births in same

1727 33 19 3606 2441

1728 34 23 4972 2355

1729 36 27 6673 3494

1730 36 16 3445 2529

Norwich.

Year Buried Baptized

1728 1417 774

1729 1731 843

Country Parishes.

Year Registers examined With excess of burials Burials in same Baptisms in same

1726 181 22 542 495

1727 180 55 1368 1091

1728 180 80 2429 1536

1729 178 62 2015 1442

1730 176 39 1302 1022

1731 175 24 700 614

The best epidemiologists of the time were not in London, but at York, Ripon, Plymouth, Cork and Dublin. Leaving the Irish history to a separate chapter, we shall find in the annals of Wintringham, Hillary and Huxham a somewhat detailed account of the fevers which caused the very high mortalities of the years 1727-29, with an occasional glimpse of the circumstances in which the fevers arose. Much of what follows relates to the same nervous, hysteric or “putrid” fever, with or without relapses, that has been described for London. Going back a little, Wintringham says[115] that the continued fevers of 1720 were milder than those of the year before (which were synochus or typhus) and were often languid or nervous, with giddiness, stupor and nervous tremblings, a quick pulse, a whitish tongue, no thirst, and sweats of the head, neck and chest: this fever lasted twenty days or more, and ended in a general sweat. He had mentioned the “languid nervous fevers” first in the years 1716 and 1717, and he mentions them again as mixed with or following the synochus or typhus of 1727-28.

In April, 1727, there were fevers prevalent, remitting and intermitting, but with uncertain paroxysms; in May, a fever with pleuritic pains; in July, a putrid fever in some, but the chief diseases of that month were “remittents and intermittents,” which were often attended by cutaneous eruptions, sometimes of dusky colour and dry, at other times full of clear serum; which, “as they depended upon a scorbutic taint, tormented the sick with pruritus.” The sick persons in these remittents were for the most part drowsy and stupid, especially during the paroxysm; the fevers were followed by lassitude, debility, languor of spirits and hysteric symptoms.

Hillary[116], who practised at Ripon, not far from Wintringham, at York, records in 1726 the prevalence of remittents and intermittents: “some had exanthematous eruptions towards the latter end of the disease, filled with a clear or yellowish water, which went or dried away without any other inconvenience to the sick but an uneasy itching for a few days”—just as Wintringham had described a miliary fever for 1727. It is also under 1726 that he describes the same drowsy and nervous symptoms of Wintringham’s summer fever of 1727:

“Ancient and weak hysterical people had nervous twitchings and catchings, and were comatous and delirious; some were very languid, sick and faint, and had tremors; the young and robust, who had more full pulses, were generally delirious, unless it was prevented or taken off by proper evacuations and cooling medicines. I found blistering to be of very great service in this fever, and the sick were more relieved by it than ever I observed in any other fever whatever. People of lax, weak constitutions were very low and faint, and had frequent, profuse, partial sweatings, which most commonly were cold and clammy.” Huxham also, at the other end of England, says that in October and November, 1727, a slow nervous fever attacked not a few; and under the date of January, 1728, he confirms the Yorkshire experiences of the prevalence of angina.

There can be little doubt that England in 1727 was already suffering in a measure from the distress that was acutely felt in Ireland; it was much aggravated by the hard winter of 1728-29[117], but it had begun before that and was doubtless the indirect cause of the great prevalence of sickness. The exports of corn under the bounty system used to bring two or three millions of money into the country in a year. But in 1727 there was a debt balance of 70,757 quarters of wheat imported, and in 1728 the import exceeded the export by 21,322 quarters, the price rising at the same time from 4s. to 8s. per bushel[118]. Under the year 1727 Hillary says:

“Many of the labouring and poor people, who used a low diet, and were much exposed to the injuries and changes of the weather, died; many of whom probably wanted the necessary assistance of diet and medicines.” And after referring, under the winter of 1727-28, to the prevalence of a fatal suffocative angina, which fell, by a kind of metastasis, on the diaphragm or pleura, and sometimes on the peritoneum, he proceeds (p. 16):—

“Nor did any other method, which art could afford, relieve them: insomuch that many of the little country towns and villages were almost stripped of their poor people, not only in the country adjacent to Ripon, but all over the northern parts of the kingdom: indeed I had no certain account of what distempers those who were at a distance died of, but suppose they were the same as those which I have mentioned, which were nearer to us. Bleeding, pectorals with volatiles, and antiphlogistic diluters and blistering, were the most successful. I observed that very few of the richer people, who used a more generous way of living, and were not exposed to the inclemencies of the weather, were seized with any of these diseases at this time.... The quartans were very subject to turn into quotidians, and sometimes to continual, in which the sick were frequently delirious.”

The Yorkshire accounts by Wintringham and Hillary for the second year of this epidemic period, the year 1728, are very full, as regards the symptoms or types of the fevers; but it would be tedious to cite them at length, and unnecessary to do so unless to answer the not inconceivable cavil that the fevers were not of the nature of typhus in one or other of its forms. The chief point is that the second year, towards Midsummer, brought a fever with the symptoms of synochus, and not rarely marked with small red spots like fleabites or with purple petechiae. In the autumn of 1729, Hillary noticed a fever of a slow type, which might go on as long as thirty days and end without a perfect crisis—the nearest approach to enteric fever in any of the descriptions. For the same years, 1727-29, Huxham, of Plymouth, describes languid fevers of the “putrid” type, with profuse sweating, followed by typhus of a more spotted type. Like the Yorkshire observer, Huxham mentions also “intermittents” as mixed with the continued fevers.

The great prevalence of these fevers, “intermittents and other fevers,” in the west of England in 1728-29 was known to Dr Rutty of Dublin, who speaks especially of “the neighbourhoods of Gloucester and London, and very mortal in the country places, but less in the cities.” This is confirmed by Dover:

“I happened to live in Gloucestershire in the years 1728 and 1729, when a very fatal epidemical fever raged to such a degree as to sweep off whole families, nay almost whole villages. I was called to several houses where eight or nine persons were down at a time; and yet did not so much as lose one patient where I was concerned[119].”

Some of the cases of nervous or putrid fever in the epidemics of 1727-29 appear to have been marked by relapses in the country districts as well as in London. Huxham says under date of April, 1728, that those who had wholly got rid of the putrid fever were exceedingly apt to have relapses. Hillary does not mention relapses until March, 1733, when a fever, with many hysterical symptoms, which succeeded the influenza of that year, relapsed in several, “though seemingly perfectly recovered before.” But he seems really to be contrasting relapsing fever and typhus when he points out that, whereas the inflammatory type of fever in the first year of the epidemic (1727) was greatly benefited by enormous phlebotomies, the fever patients in the two seasons following, when the fever was more of the nature of spotted typhus, could not stand the loss of so much blood, or, it might be, the loss of any blood[120]. This was precisely the remark made by Christison and others a century later, when the inflammatory synocha, which often had the relapsing type very marked, changed to the spotted typhus.

From the year 1731 we begin to have annual accounts (soon discontinued) of the reigning maladies in Edinburgh, on the same plan as Wintringham’s, Hillary’s and Huxham’s, with which, indeed, they are sometimes collated and compared[121]. The fevers of Edinburgh and the villages near were as various as those of Plymouth, according to Huxham, and singularly like the latter. Thus, in the winter of 1731-32, there was much worm fever, comatose fever, or convulsive fever among children, but not limited to children, marked by intense pain in the head, raving in some, stupor in others, tremulous movements, leaping of the tendons, and all the other symptoms described by Willis for the fever of 1661, a fatal case of October, 1732, in a boy of ten, recorded by St Clair one of the Edinburgh professors, reading exactly like the cases of Willis already given[122]. St Clair’s case, which was soon fatal, had no worms; but in the general accounts, both for the winter of 1731-32 and the autumn of 1732, it is said that many of the younger sort passed worms, both teretes and ascarides, and recovered, the fatalities among children being, as usual, few. In March and April, 1735, there were again “very irregular fevers of children.” Huxham records exactly the same “worm-fever” of children at Plymouth in the spring of 1734—a fever with pains in the head, languor, anxiety, oppression of the breast, vomiting, diarrhoea, and a comatose state (affectus soporosus), which attacked the young mostly, and was often attended by the passage of worms. He gives the same account of the seasons as Gilchrist—the years 1734 and 1735 marked by almost continual rains, the country more squalid than had been known for some years[123].

But it is the nervous fever that chiefly engrosses attention both in Scotland and in England. In 1735, Dr Gilchrist, of Dumfries, made it the subject of an essay, returning to the subject a few years after[124]. “As our fever,” he says, “seems to be peculiar to this age, it is not a little surprising that much more has not been said upon it.” He is not sure whether its frequency of late years may not be owing to the manner of living (it was the time of the great drink-craze, which Huxham also connects with the reigning maladies) and to a long course of warm, rainy seasons; the winters for some years had been warm and open, and the summers and harvests rainy. It was only the poorer sort and those a degree above them who were subject to this fever; he knew but few instances of it amongst those who lived well, and none amongst wine-drinkers. It was in some insidious in its approach; those who seemed to be in no danger the first days for the most part died. In others the onset was violent, with nausea, heat, thirst and delirium. Among the symptoms were looseness, pains in the belly, local sweating, tickling cough, leaping of the tendons. Sometimes they were in continual cold clammy sweats; at other times profuse sweats ran from them, as if water were sprinkled upon them, the skin feeling death cold.

At Edinburgh, from October, 1735, to February, 1736, the fever became very common, and was often a relapsing fever.

“The sick had generally a low pulse on the first two or three days, with great anxiety and uneasiness, and thin, crude urine. Delirium began about the fourth day, and continued until the fever went off on the seventh day. Sometimes the disease was lengthened to the fourteenth day. The approach of the delirium could always be foretold by the urine becoming more limpid, and without sediment.... A large plentiful sweat was the crisis in some. Others were exposed to relapses, which were very frequent, and rather more dangerous than the former fever[125].”

These evidences, beginning with Strother’s for London in 1728 and extending to the Edinburgh record of 1735, must suffice to identify true relapsing fever. In the chapter on Irish fevers we shall find clear evidence of relapsing fever in Dublin in 1739, before the great famine had begun.

Huxham’s account of the fevers at Plymouth, in Devonshire generally, and in Cornwall about the years 1734-36 is of the first importance. It is highly complex, owing to the prevalence of an affection of the throat, so that one part of the constitution is “anginose fever.” This has been dealt with in the chapter on Scarlatina and Diphtheria. Another part was true typhus. In his account of the nervous fever we are introduced, as in the Yorkshire annals, 1726-27, to a phenomenon that was almost distinctive of the low, nervous or putrid fever from about 1750 to 1760 or longer, namely, the eruption of red, or purple, or white watery vesicles, from which it got the name of miliary fever. Huxham’s annals are full of this phenomenon about the years 1734-36[126]. The red pustules, or white pustules, with attendant ill-smelling sweats, are mentioned over and over again. He thought them critical or relieving: “Happy was then the patient who broke out in sweats or in red pustules.” These fevers are said to have extended to the country parts of Devonshire, after they had ceased in Plymouth, and to Cornwall in August, 1736. In Plymouth itself the type of fever changed after a time to malignant spotted fever, synochus, or true typhus.

The malignant epidemic seemed to have been brought in by the fleet; it had raged for a long time among the sailors of the fleet lying at Portsmouth, and had destroyed many of them. In March, 1735, it was raging among the lower classes of Plymouth. About the 10th day of the fever, previously marked by various head symptoms, there appeared petechiae, red or purple, or livid or black, up to the size of vibices or blotches, or the eruption might be more minute, like fleabites. A profuse, clammy, stinking sweat, or a most foetid diarrhoea wasted the miserable patients. A black tongue, spasms, hiccup, and livid hands presaged death about the 11th to 14th day. So extensive and rapid was the putrefaction of the bodies that they had to be buried at once or within twenty-four hours. It was fortunate for many to have had a mild sweat and a red miliary eruption about the 4th or 5th day; but for others the course of the disease was attended with great risk. In April the type became worse, and the disease more general. There was rarely now any constriction of the throat. Few pustules broke out; but in place of them there were dusky or purple and black petechiae, and too often livid blotches, with which symptoms very many died both in April and May. In July this contagious fever had decreased much in Plymouth, and in September it was only sporadic there. With a mere reference to Hillary’s account of somewhat similar fevers at Ripon in 1734-5 (with profuse sweats, sometimes foetid, great fainting and sinking of spirits, starting of the limbs and beating of the tendons, hiccup for days, etc.[127]) we may pass to a more signal historical event, the great epidemic of fever in 1741-42, of which the Irish part alone has hitherto received sufficient notice[128].

The epidemic fever of 1741-42.

The harvest of 1739 had been an abundant one, and the export of grain had been large. At Lady-day the price of wheat had been 31s. 6d. per quarter, and it rose 10s. before Lady-day, 1740. An extremely severe winter had intervened, one of the three memorable winters of the 18th century. The autumn-sown wheat was destroyed by the prolonged and intense frost, and the price at Michaelmas, 1740, rose to 56s. per quarter, the exportation being at the same time prohibited, but not until every available bushel had been sold to the foreigners. The long cold of the winter of 1739-40 had produced much distress and want in London, Norwich, Edinburgh and other towns. In London the mortality for 1740 rose to a very high figure, 30,811, of which 4003 deaths were from fever and 2725 from smallpox. In mid-winter, 1739-40, coals rose to £3. 10s. per chaldron, owing to the navigation of the Thames being closed by ice; the streets were impassable by snow, there was a “frost-fair” on the Thames, and in other respects a repetition of the events preceding the London typhus of 1685-86. The Gentleman’s Magazine of January, 1740, tells in verse how the poor were “unable to sustain oppressive want and hunger’s urgent pain,” and reproaches the rich,—“colder their hearts than snow, and harder than the frost”; while in its prose columns it announces that “the hearts of the rich have been opened in consideration of the hard fate of the poor[129].” The long, hard winter was followed by the dry spring and hot summer of 1740, during which the sickness (in Ireland at least) was of the dysenteric type. In the autumn of 1740 the epidemic is said to have taken origin both at Plymouth and Bristol from ships arriving with infection among the men—at the former port the king’s ships ‘Panther’ and ‘Canterbury,’ at the latter a merchant ship. At Plymouth it was certainly raging enormously from June to the end of the year—“febris nautica pestilentialis jam saevit maxime,” says Huxham; it continued there all through the first half of 1741, “when it seemed to become lost in a fever of the bilious kind.” It was in the dry spring and very hot summer of 1741 that the fever became general over England. Wall says that it appeared at Worcester at the Spring Assizes among a few; at Exeter also it was traced to the gaol delivery; and it was commonly said that the turmoil of the General Election (which resulted in driving Walpole from his long term of power) helped its diffusion. But undoubtedly the great occasion of its universality was a widely felt scarcity. The rise in the price of wheat was small beside the enormous leaps that prices used to take in the medieval period, having been at no time double the average low price of that generation. It was rather the want of employment that made the pinch so sharp in 1741. The weaving towns of the west of England were losing their trade; of “most trades,” also, it was said that they were in apparent decay, “except those which supply luxury[130].” Dr Barker, of Sarum, the best medical writer upon the epidemic, says:

“The general poverty which has of late prevailed over a great part of this nation, and particularly amongst the woollen manufacturers in the west, where the fever has raged and still continues to rage with the greatest violence, affords but too great reason to believe that this has been one principal source of the disease[131].”

He explains that the price of wheat had driven the poor to live on bad bread. This is borne out by a letter from Wolverhampton, 27 November, 1741[132]. The writer speaks of the extraordinary havoc made among the poorer sort by the terrible fever that has for some time raged in most parts of England and Ireland. At first it seldom fixed on any but the poor people, and especially such as lived in large towns, workhouses, or prisons. Country people and farmers seemed for the most part exempt from it, “though we have observed it frequently in villages near market towns”; whereas, says the writer, the epidemic fevers of 1727, 1728 and 1729 were first observed to begin among the country people, and to be some time in advancing to large towns. This writer’s theory was that the fever was caused by bad bread, and he alleges that horse-beans, pease and coarse unsound barley were almost the only food of the poor. To this a Birmingham surgeon took exception[133]. Great numbers of the poor had, to his knowledge, lived almost entirely upon bean-bread, but had been very little afflicted with the fever. Besides, every practitioner knew that the fever was not confined to the poor. He pointed out that in Wolverhampton, whence the bad-bread theory emanated, the proportion of poor to those in easier circumstances was as six to one, poverty having increased so much by decay of trade that many wanted even the necessaries of life. The Birmingham surgeon was on the whole inclined to the theory of “the ingenious Sydenham, that the disease may be ascribed to a contagious quality in the air, arising from some secret and hidden alterations in the bowels of the earth, passing through the whole atmosphere, or to some malign influence in the heavenly bodies”—these being Sydenham’s words as applied to the fever of 1685-6.

Barker, also, draws a parallel between the epidemic of 1741 and that of 1685-86: the Thames was frozen in each of the two winters preceding the respective epidemics, and the spring and summer of 1740 and 1741 were as remarkable for drought and heat as those of 1684 and 1685.

In London the deaths from fever in 1741 reached the enormous figure of 7528, the highest total in the bills of mortality from first to last, while the deaths from all causes were 32,119, in a population of some 700,000, also the highest total from the year of the great plague until the new registration of the whole metropolitan area in 1838. It will be seen from the following table (on p. 81) of the weekly mortalities that the fever-deaths rose greatly in the autumn, but, unlike the old plague, reached a maximum in the winter.

The effects of the epidemic of typhus upon the weaving towns of the west of England, in which the fever lasted, as in London, into the spring of 1742, were seen at their worst in the instance of Tiverton. It was then a town of about 8000 inhabitants, having increased little during the last hundred years. Judged by the burials and baptisms in the parish register it was a more unhealthy place since the extinction of plague than it had been before that. It was mostly a community of weavers, who had not been in prosperous circumstances for sometime past. In 1735 the town had been burned down, and in 1738 it was the scene of riots. The hard winter of 1739-40 brought acute distress, and in 1741 spotted fever was so prevalent that 636 persons were buried in that year, being 1 in 12 of the inhabitants. At the height of the epidemic ten or eleven funerals were seen at one time in St Peter’s churchyard. Its population twenty years after is estimated to have declined by two thousand, and at the end of the 18th century it was a less populous place than at the beginning[134].